Chapter 33: Expanded Release
The California sun was especially brilliant. With May just around the corner, Los Angeles' trademark warm weather had quietly arrived.
This was Wayne's third official visit to the Fox Building, and from the moment he stepped onto the sixth floor, he could feel it—the way people looked at him had changed.
But he no longer cared about that. In Hollywood, the line between success and failure is razor-thin. If Happy Death Day's expanded run stumbled, those admiring looks would turn into pity or contempt just as quickly.
He walked into the meeting room that Terry had told him about, and the first thing on his mind was the status of the film's expanded release.
Taking the folder Terry handed him, Wayne sat down silently and studied the contents.
Starting this week—as of today—Happy Death Day would expand to 1,000 theaters nationwide. Fox would inject up to $3 million in promotional funds before the weekend, depending on the film's ongoing performance.
This wasn't the marketing environment of twenty years later. In the early 1990s, a million-dollar campaign was already a significant investment. Even James Cameron's Terminator 2, released the year before, had only $9 million in marketing budget.
After carefully reviewing Fox's marketing strategy, Wayne finally let out a long breath. Since October of the previous year, he had been carrying the weight of this project on his back. Now, for the first time, he felt some of that pressure lift.
He could finally see success, see victory waving to him from afar. And it hadn't come easy—just like the elusive American Dream so often touted in North American media. Anyone might reach it… but few ever touch it.
"Wayne, things are about to get busy," Terry said, noticing Wayne had set the folder down. His tone grew serious. "Fox has already notified the lead actors. Starting this week, you'll be joining them on the press tour."
"Of course," Wayne replied without hesitation. "As the film's director, I'll fulfill my contractual obligations. Just let me know the schedule ahead of time."
He smiled slightly. "Trust me, Terry—those actors are probably itching to get out there and promote themselves."
Terry gave a nonchalant shrug. He'd seen it all before—a successful film was like blood in the water for struggling actors, who saw it as a shortcut to stardom.
With the full might of 20th Century Fox behind them—rush-printing film reels, coordinating with the theater alliance—none of this posed a challenge. By its second week, Happy Death Day finally entered mainstream commercial theaters, launching its wide release.
The film debuted across 1,000 theaters and 1,480 screens, supported by an intensified ad campaign across the Fox cable network and various subsidiary TV channels owned by News Corp.
In print media, the film went from being featured in a few second-rate tabloids to showing up in major local outlets like The Hollywood Reporter and the Los Angeles Times, along with promotional headlines such as:
"Birthday Becomes Death Day – A Journey of Self-Redemption"
"Shock Factor: Naomi Watts Gets Tormented Again and Again"
Who says clickbait started in the 2010s? Even in the early '90s, Wayne had already seen how entertainment media would throw away all dignity just to grab attention.
Naturally, the marketing campaign centered on the two lead actresses. With their good looks, they were walking, talking selling points.
---
Starting Monday, with Fox's blitz-style marketing push, saturated ad placements, and the film maintaining an audience score of A and above at over 90%, ticket sales began to skyrocket.
Monday: $1.5 million
Tuesday: $1.76 million
Wednesday: $1.66 million
Thursday: $1.54 million
By the time the weekend arrived, Happy Death Day had blown past $6 million for the week, reaching a total box office of $6.87 million—a number that stunned the industry again.
Fox quickly organized a cast and crew meeting at their main office, preparing everyone for the weekend promotional events kicking off in Los Angeles. It was the first time the entire team had been reunited since filming wrapped.
Fox's marketing department had everything mapped out—fan meetups, TV show appearances, audience Q&As, and behind-the-scenes sharing. All the cast had to do was show up and smile. After all, this was Fox's territory—they were the professionals here.
---
As the meeting neared its end, Wayne quickly approached two key executives.
"Mr. Rossman, Mr. Terry," he said, stepping forward. Even though the release was going well, Wayne still had plenty of questions.
"Well done, Director Garfield," Thomson Rossman replied with a slight nod. "Let's talk in my office."
Then he turned to Terry and added, "Terry, you stay here and wrap things up."
Wayne followed him, his thoughts already brimming with the next stage of the journey. After all, this was only the beginning.
Thomson Rossman led Wayne out of the conference room and down the hall to his personal office. Neither of them spoke along the way.
Wayne was deep in thought, trying to figure out what had truly moved this powerful man to take a risk on his film. It couldn't have been the movie itself—no one in this town ever bets on an unseen film. Until it's released, success is always a question mark.
Rossman's office was split into two sections. Near the windows was a large desk, where he liked to work while gazing outside. The other half featured a wall-to-wall bookshelf, a pair of sofas, and a coffee table—clearly meant for longer conversations.
"Mr. Rossman," Wayne began cautiously after settling into the sofa, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you. I just can't figure out why Fox agreed to distribute my film so easily. You didn't even try to bargain down the price. That's not the kind of behavior you'd expect from a major studio."
Rossman sat across from him, studying the young director carefully. Even now, with the film's future looking bright, Wayne remained calm and rational—a trait Rossman clearly appreciated.
"It's not a secret," Rossman said slowly, stroking his chin. "But I do need to think about how to say it. What exactly do you want to know? Everything?"
"Absolutely, Mr. Rossman. I've known one thing since I was a kid—nobody gives you something for nothing. Free things are always the most expensive in the end. So I need to understand: why me? Why did Fox come looking for my film?"
Rossman gave a small sigh.
"It was your mother, kid."
After a pause, he continued, seeing that Wayne wasn't the kind of immature director who'd be wounded by pride.
"Your mother, Anna, called me. Said I owed your father a favor. She asked me to give you a shot. And don't think just because she lives on a farm that she doesn't know what's happening in Los Angeles. She has a lot of friends here."
"Back when you were just a baby, my very first job came from your dad. We were good friends—partners, even. Then Ruben got the farm, and he cut ties with most of his old friends."
Rossman's voice grew more nostalgic as he fell into memory.
Wayne, for his part, could barely recall those early years. He only vaguely remembered that his family had lived in L.A. until he was about five.
Looking at Rossman's pensive expression, Wayne asked quietly,
"What about the cost, Mr. Rossman? Even if my mother asked for your help, this clearly wasn't in Fox's best interest. You could've offered me a shot, sure—but I want to know: what did my parents sacrifice for this opportunity?"
Rossman nodded slightly, impressed again by Wayne's clarity.
"Your father—Ruben Garfield's lawyer—signed an agreement with Fox's distribution division," he explained.
"It said that if the film failed to generate revenue, your father would personally reimburse all expenses incurred during distribution, including the upfront fee we paid for North American rights."
That made things clear. Wayne leaned back into the sofa and quietly lit a cigarette. He didn't feel resentful or humiliated. His pride wasn't so fragile.
He had never believed that talent alone could get him everything in Hollywood. This place was as brutally realistic as it got. Talent was often worthless—people here worshiped power and success, not artistry.
"And if the film makes a profit?" Wayne asked. "Does that mean the contract is null and void? I just want to be sure my parents didn't risk their retirement savings because of me."
"That agreement?" Rossman smiled. "You can consider it a worthless scrap of paper now, kid. The film's performance has already proven that. You did great. When I saw the numbers coming in, I knew Ruben wouldn't be disappointed."
"Thank you, Mr. Rossman."
Wayne knew clearly: this opportunity wasn't free. Anna and Ruben Garfield had put up millions of dollars on the line to give him his shot. He'd never forget that. Even under such high-stakes pressure, he understood that without Ruben's personal favor, Fox's distribution resources would've been far beyond reach.
---
Meanwhile, on the sixth floor of the Fox building, in another office, Jimmy sat with Terry, visibly excited. Also present were Uma Thurman, Ethan Hawke, Naomi Watts, and her agent.
"The press tour starts tomorrow," Terry said, his tone firm. "Make sure you maintain a clean public image. Best if you all act like a close-knit family in front of the fans. Everyone knows this was a low-budget project—so when you're doing interviews or meet-and-greets, talk about the challenges of the production. Emphasize how you all pulled together as a team."
Jimmy and Naomi's agent nodded, both understanding the assignment.
Happy Death Day was now showing signs of massive breakout success, far beyond what its budget suggested. The media would be hunting down these three leads, eager to latch onto their stories. They had to guard their public image carefully. Now was not the time for scandals—not when the film was peaking in popularity.